


Calico Road Pt. I

by mghnn



Series: The Calico Road Series [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Vessels, Heaven and Hell, Reimagined, Slow Burn, chestervelle - Freeform, dean and jo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 17:33:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18855772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mghnn/pseuds/mghnn
Summary: The boys get tossed back into the battle between angels and demons when; in order to regain his powers, Castiel is ordered to pull Jo from Heaven, leaving them all scrambling for answers, and their lives.—Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, or their original stories. I’ve tried to stick as close to the timeline details as possible but have taken some liberties with where this story falls and other information from later seasons; takes places loosely after S8.





	1. 01; prologue

**_Chapter 01; prologue._ **

This was always her favorite feeling; the anticipation had been building now for a few days, but it was in these moments; when the air buzzed like an oncoming summer storm that even mom; who’s mood had been sour since day one, couldn’t help the smile that broke her stern features every time she glanced at the clock. Time winding down, ticking ever closer to when the little bar would break into a chaotic mess of squealing giggles, great big bear hugs, and those oh-so-raucous retellings of the last trip’s adventures; more often than not re-imagined to epic proportions.

Jo was at the front window, pigtails bouncing as she vibrated on the balls of her feet, eyes peeking just barely over the window ledge, chewing on her bottom lip as she followed the cars back and forth across the highway in front of the roadhouse. Listening for the telltale growl of uncle John’s shiny black car, a 1967 Chevy Impala - he had let her drive it once. Well.. he pretended to let her drive it, her short legs were a mile off from the pedals so he let her steer the car in circles, tires crunching slowly over the gravel parking lot as he controlled the gas. She loved that car.

Her eyes snapped to the edge of the highway, there was a man standing there - suddenly - where there hadn't been a man standing a second before. Jo furrowed her tiny features as the man started walking towards the roadhouse. She had never seen him before, and she knew all the men that passed through here. They were all hunters, tough men who taught her all sorts of things about the real world; much to mom’s dismay, hating her daughter's morbid fascination with the lifestyle. But the big gruff men couldn’t resist when Jo turned on those puppy eyes; she wanted to know every story, every creature and every weapon she could because one day, she would go with dad on those hunting trips of his. And she would come back and recount her grand adventures to those very same hunters who taught her all she knew. She would make them proud.

But for now, Jo watched the man walking towards her home - studied his features for any tell of who he was. Tall, dark-haired and stone-faced; he was handsome but not hard like the other hunters who usually had a few days shadow on their weary faces when they made their way back to the safe haven that was Harvelle’s Roadhouse. His clothes were too clean; like they magically repelled the dirt and dust of the dry summer day.. there weren’t even any scuffs on his shoes! Shiny and pristine as he stopped outside the door. She watched him take a breath before he reached to turn the handle, and when she turned towards the creak of the hinges, he stopped just over the threshold turning his head to look at her. Really look at her, with eyes the brightest, clearest blue she had ever seen. He smiled a sad smile at her.

“Hello Jo”, his voice rumbled the greeting, breaking like a low, smooth thunderclap over her. Jo’s eyes went wide and then, like any shy child around a stranger, looked over her shoulder for mom, who was normally behind the bar but.. where did she go? The trio of hunters that had taken up stools at the far end of the bar were also missing, and  the guy who’d been playing pool - practicing because he could never seem to win the cash bets against dad.

Gone.

Everyone was gone. Even the music that usually prattled out of the ancient jukebox had silenced. Eyes wide with panic, Jo slowly turned her head back to the man, who was now crouching down to her level in an attempt to appear less threatening.

“Jo, my name is Castiel. I am an angel of the lord”, he said to her, "I need you to come with me.” The man - Castiel - reached his hand out to her, but Jo didn’t know this man. And Angels weren’t real. And where did everyone go? Why weren’t dad and Uncle John back yet, they should have been here by now.

Jo blinked in confusion as she backed up against the wall, looking around the man for an escape. He was an adult so she knew he was stronger than her and had a longer reach, but she was fast. She bolted, just out of his grasp but stopped dead in the middle of the room. Smack dab between that ancient jukebox and the bar; lined with it’s worn out floorboards from years of boots and stools scraping across them. Something was wrong.. Something was different.

She scanned the area, then turned on her heel and walked towards the bar. Last week Uncle John had snuck dad’s hunting knife to her under his seat while they regaled mom with a story of the vampire nest they’d taken down - she’d taken note of moms distraction and carved her initials near the baseboard by the 2nd stool, where dad always sat.. except.. they were gone. There as no “J.B.H” carved anywhere. But.. she had done it, she knew she had, it’d taken her ages to meticulously carve each tiny letter, small enough that mom would miss it when she was mopping. And she had been so careful not to cut her fingers on the sharp edge of the knife so that Uncle John knew she could be trusted with it.

Where did they go?

She spun around, careful little eyes roaming the room. The neon lights on the jukebox, that had dulled long before her time.. were just.. too bright, shining pink and yellow. The Window behind the jukebox was missing the crack in the top left corner from when dad had tried teaching jo how to hit a baseball, and the pool table was missing the tear in the middle pocket.

She wheeled around to face the man, who was now standing watching her with that sad look on his face.

"What's wrong with my home?,” Jo asked, in a voice she did not recognize, realizing she was no longer looking up at the man from his knees, her gaze now more in line with his chest.

Looking down at herself, slim denim-clad legs greeted her, Jo shook her head in an attempt to clear the mud that had started seeping heavily in her mind and long blond waves shook around her face. Jo stepped back to look in the glass of the jukebox, where a now twenty-something version of herself was starting back at her.

"I think you know this isn't really your home Jo", Castiel said as the sun outside the roadhouse turned a sickly red color, pulsing in her perifs as she looked back at him. "I know this is.. Difficult--", Castiel stopped short, tilting his head, like a dog hearing something in the distance, '-- to comprehend, but we need to leave. Now.”

"But..", Jo started, she couldn't seem to form words, form the questions that were piling up. Squinting against the pulsing light outside as the roadhouse lights went black. "What the hell is going on?", pulling her big-girl attitude seemingly out of nowhere - there, that felt better.. more like it used to be. _Like what used to be?_ There were so many conflicting thoughts bouncing around in her brain - the little girl with the pigtails was terrified; why had everyone left her? But the twenty-something was trying to logically form answers while grasping for the information.

"Jo, we must go. NOW", Castiel stepped in front of her, his arms outstretched - hands on her shoulders, all but shaking her to snap out of her confusion. She tried to push him away but he stepped closer as the windows around them exploded when a high pitched tone pierced the silence, raining glass down on them like confetti - very sharp, angry confetti.

Jo felt something warm wrap around them, muffling the sound that was now reverberating up and down her spine, making her feel like her bones were going to shatter right along with the windows.

Then her stomach lurched into her throat as they fell.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first fanfic I am writing so I have to give big thanks my lovely friend @Xellana for being my grammar police and to @SuperWiki for the literal pages and pages of resources that fans like me can use to get the details just right.
> 
> I will forever go down with this ship. #SorryNotSorry


	2. 02

**_Chapter 02;_ ** 

It was hot.

Like ‘fry an egg on the hood of a car’ hot. He would know; Sam did it this morning - to Dean’s horror, using the Impala as an oversized frying pan. How could he treat Baby in such a manner? She deserved better than that. Dean shook his head at the thought, shooting a glare towards the long-limbed man in the passenger seat. 

“Oh stop with the looks Dean; she’s fine - not a scratch on her. And correct me if I’m wrong, but the eggs weren’t half bad”, Sam stated, not looking up from the papers spread across his lap. 

Dean grumbled and focused back on the road. 

Fuck it was hot. 

The boys had foregone their usual layers of flannel, Dean laughing when Sam had taken off his plaid button down and tied it around his waist.

“You look you’re trying to be a 90’s grunge bad girl”, Dean joked as he shoveled car-hood eggs into his mouth, “ You’re just missing one of those stretchy plastic tattoo choker things”

“Shut-up, I’m melting over here”, Sam snapped, tugging the knot of his shirt around his waist for emphasis, he was always got a little extra bitchy when it was hot.

“Ahh, come on man - shoot me your best blue-steel bitch fac-- HA! There it is”, Dean laughed, “The smart book-worm with the bad attitude, if only she’d put on a sparkly dress and paint a smile on ‘er face, she’d be almost pretty”. Dean threw his head back laughing. The kind of full-belly, eyes-watering laughter that was rare in their day to day lives.

“Dude, that’s the premise to She’s All That.. now who’s the teenage girl”, Sam said, whipping a water bottle at him. Dean was still chuckling as he snatched the bottle from the ground, unscrewing the cap and downing the contents.

“Oh man, too good”, screwing the cap back on the empty bottle with a sigh, wiping at the corners of eyes.

They had finished breakfast on the side of the road, Dean perched on their ancient green cooler instead of his usual leaning spot against the Impala. Too hot even in the morning sun to be near her - he had the angry scorch down the outside of his forearm to prove it. Sam had rolled his eyes at the hurt expression on Dean’s face; like she had betrayed him in some way - which had led to the “hot enough to cook an egg on” argument. 

And now they were here, chewing up highway somewhere in the Sonoran Desert towards their next job. Something killing the locals of a makeshift village close to the Mexican border. 

“So get this,” Sam started, “Back in the 1700s, Jesuits were sent on missions - the Spanish Missions - in Northwestern Mexico to evangelize the indigenous peoples in the area now divided between Arizona and the Mexican state of Sonora. The missions were intended to educate and convert them”; Sam added air quotes - “into Spanish colonial citizens while forcing them into settlements called reductions, which were really little more than concentration camps. They forced their European ways and dished out the abuse if they didn’t fall in line. -- So these deaths definitely mimic those of what the indigenous would have experienced ” 

“Make no mistake, it’s not revenge he’s after - it’s a reckonin”, Dean quipped in his best Val Kilmer voice. Sam just looked at him blankly. “Aww come on Sammy, Doc Holliday.. Tombstone..” Dean nodded to the sign ahead on the highway, showing they were indeed - just outside Tombstone Arizona as Sam just shook his head. 

“Okay fine”, Dean said, ignoring his brother's lack of humor. “So it’s the classic - town built on an ancient Indian burial ground - spooks start killing the locals - kind of deal; in this case whipping them to death.”

“Yea, pretty much”, Sam said flipping through his papers, “it would’ve been a pretty brutal way to die, and if it wasn’t that, it was probably starvation or disease that got them - no doubt that town is in bad shape with some pretty pissed off ghosts”

“But we can’t just go charging in to salt & burn an entire town, what’s the plan?” 

“Well, if we can find some wifi so I can double check these translations, I have a ritual that should calm the restless spirits and help force them through to the other side”. 

“So banish them basically”, Sam shrugged his shoulders in response. “Alright well.. sounds good enough, and then I think we deserve a lil trip down to Mexico Ci-- “ 

“Uhh Dean”, Sam stopped him, eyes on the sky out the window. 

“Yea, I see it”, Dean said, leaning forward, squinting through the top of the windshield. His eyes followed something shooting, or falling from the sky, leaving a tail along the atmosphere behind it.

“What is that?”, Sam asked, slowly starting to stack all his papers, shoving them into his bag, all without taking his eyes off the sky. 

“I have no friggin’ idea, UFO?” Dean suggested, swerving to the shoulder of the empty highway. They both got out of the car, hands up shielding their eyes against the sun. “If that’s an asteroid or sumthin, we’re fucked”

“Nah, it’s too… small - something that size shoulda burned up when it entered the atmosphere”, Sam stated. “It .. - it almost looks like--”

“When the angels got drop-kicked outta heaven”, Dean finished. The boys gave each other a grim look and then jumped back in the car. Dean jams it into gear, cranking the wheel and floors the gas. They bounce and bump along the rough desert terrain, Dean cringing at the sounds scraping against the car's undercarriage, and audibly swears at one particularly rough bottom-out as Baby’s shocks protest loudly. 

“CACTUS”, Sam yells at him.

“Yea, I fuckin see it.” He snapped back, swerving around the offending plant life, squinting against the dust streaming through the open windows. The.. thing, was directly above them now, sounding almost like like a missile as it shoots past them and straight into the dry earth; the impact sending a low shockwave rippling out across the desert. Dean slams on the breaks, the car halting hard - inches from the edge of the impact crater.

They stay like that for half a beat, the sound of debris settling around them, holding their breath until the dust starts to clear. Dean’s the first one to move, killing the engine and slowly stepping from the car, the door emitting the angry whine of aging metal - as if Baby herself was less than impressed at the whole off-roading expedition. Sam follows suit, stepping to the edge of the crater on his side of the car, attempting to wave the still swirling dust out of his face. 

And there, in the middle of the crater was indeed, what looked like an angel. But unlike when Metatron coerced an unknowing Cas into sealing the gates of heaven, grounding the angels still residing up on their fluffy little clouds and losing their wings as they fell to earth, this angel’s wings were still intact. 

Mostly. 

Giant black wings were folded around the angel, like when a bat’s wings are all wrapped around its body as it hangs upside down. These wings, now singed and torn, were still smoldering from the heat of entering the atmosphere. Dean walked back to the trunk of the Impala, jolting it open and grabbing 2 angel blades. He was back at the edge of the crater in 3 long strides, tossing a blade to Sam as he dropped to his haunches and half slid, half jogged down the incline and into the crater. Sam followed quickly, stepping to stand beside Dean a few feet from where the angel lay. They nodded at each other and set out in opposite directions, circling the creature and stopping across from each other. One of them presumably at it’s front, and one at it’s back. Sam nudged a wing as Dean dropped into a defensive stance, ready to swing at anything that came at him. 

One of the wings snapped back at Sam, extending its full massive span before pulling itself to cover the angels back, revealing an all too familiar trench coat. 

“Cas?!”, Dean says, tucking his blade in the back of his belt and taking a step towards their comrade. “What the hell man, CAS!” 

“...Dean?”, the angels gravely voice rumbles out as he cracks an eye open, turning his head to see Sam in his perifs behind him. “Sam.” 

“What are the odds...” Sam asks as he steps around to Cas’s front, “Did they kick you outta heaven for good this time?” 

“Heaven.. no.. maybe”, Castiel croaks, trying to sit up. “They won’t be happy with me”

“Cas what’s going on?”, Dean asks, still staring at the angel's wings in awe, they’d only ever seen shadows of them. He never thought they’d actually see the feathered versions, especially after they fell - most angels that got their wings back decided to stay upstairs. Not wanting to risk being locked out again, and there were apparently very few even left.

“I had to save someone, he told me to get her”, Cas coughed out. 

“You had to save who, a soul?” Sam asked, taking a knee so Cas didn’t have to crane his neck to look at them. 

Cas swept his other wing open, the one that had been folded up beside him, forcing Dean to step back. 

Sam sucked in a hard breath and Dean felt his knees go weak, the blood freezing in his veins - like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water on him. Laying there, curled up on Cas’s tattered wing, covered in dirt and dust but with nothing more than a few scrapes, was the last person he ever expected to see again. 

“Jo?”

\--

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I had Norman Greenbaum’s “Spirit in the Sky” in my head while the boys are off-roading.


	3. 03

* * *

**_Chapter 03;_ **

 

The first thing she remembered after falling, was sad green eyes. Not just a ho-hum woe is me type of sad, but a gut-wrenching anguish that twisted her heart. She didn’t understand why eyes with this level of sadness were aimed at her, with a familiarity to them - and their owner, that she couldn’t place. 

“Jo?”, _ahh, so the sad eyes has a voice_. A deep, beautifully husky baritone that sent goosebumps up her spine. 

Jo shot up suddenly, coughing and gagging; fragmented memories flooding her mind. Those eyes.

  

 

> _“Okay, this is it. I’ll see you on the other side, probably sooner than later”  
>  _ _“Make it later”, She smiled sadly at him, handing him her shotgun._

 

Sad Eyes helped her so that she was on her hands and knees, retching up a thick sticky liquid on the ground instead of herself as she was locked into the scene behind her eyes.

 

 

> _She’s on a tile floor, legs straight out in front of her - she can’t feel them, one hand is holding a bandage to her stomach, blood steadily seeping through it - she can barely feel that. He takes her other hand, wrapping it around a button that’s tethered to buckets of rock salt and iron nails. He stares at that hand for a moment before he looks at her, she can feel tears on her face when his lips go to her forehead. Another look with those eyes and she sucks in a breath as he cups her face in his warm hands._
> 
>  

Those same hands were now gathering her hair back to avoid the mess as she sucked in huge gulps of air in between body wrenching gags. 

“It will take her some time to.. Acclimate”, a gravelly voice said. _Right, the angel._

“Acclimate?!... Cas how is she even here”, three; there were three voices. This one also deep, but not as rough as the others. “How does she have a body?” He said in a lower voice. 

She sat back on her knees, wiping the tears streaking her face - there really was no way to avoid crying while throwing up is there? She blinked back the dizziness that came with trying to suck in as much air as she could; it was like her lungs hadn’t been used in far too long. Looking for the 3rd voice, she found the source to her left helping the angel up. 

“Well, that is a long story”, the angel said. _Castiel, he said his name was Castiel_. He was vertical now, although leaning heavily on voice number three; who was freakishly tall once he was standing at full height. 

“Jo?”, Sad Eyes said her name softly, pulling her focus back to him as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He was looking at her like she was a porcelain doll about to shatter, and she wasn’t sure whether to be touched at the concern or annoyed at the assumption of her frailty. 

He looked hurt momentarily when she pulled away from him, back peddling to put some distance between them. He was too close - too familiar with her when she couldn’t wholly grasp the same feeling, like it was made of smoke and she couldn’t wrap her fingers around it. She knew him somehow, sure, but that memory wasn’t right. That memory wasn’t hers. 

“Jo, that’s Dean”, Castiel spoke evenly, calling her attention to him now. “And this is Sam, they’re hunters, you know them. Do you remember?”

“No”, Jo croaked out, shaking her head. “I- I don’t”, she stopped, looking back and forth between the brothers. “I don’t know?” 

“That’s okay”, Sam, voice number 3, said. “It’s okay. We knew you well, and your mom”

Jo’s eyes snapped to Sam, “My mom? Where is she?” she asked him. He looked down sadly shaking his head, she looked frantically to Castiel and then to Dean; who was still kneeling down near her, eyes also downcast.

“She died.” He said, looking up at her face, jaw clenching against whatever emotions he was trying to mask. “In Carthage.”

“What?!” Jo snapped, hauling herself to her feet “No she didn’t, she’s not dead. She’s at home.. at the Roadhouse” She turned on Castiel, stomping towards him. “We .. we were JUST there! You saw her! Dad and Uncle John are probably back now and wondering what the hell’s happened and where the hell I’ve gone.”

Sam furrowed his brow at her in confusion, looking at Dean and mouthing _Dad?_ then to Castiel “Sorry what.. Uncle John?”

“Yes, they were on their way back from a hunt and then this guy” She jams her finger at the angel angrily, “Shows up and there’s this... this pulsing light outside the bar... and.. then...this sound--”, Jo starts to slow down, bringing her hand to her head as her breathes becomes ragged.

“Shit”, Dean curses as he jumps up, getting to her before her knees give out, arms wrapping around her as he kneels back down, her head lolling semi-conscious on his shoulder. “Cas, what the hell?!”

“I did say she needed to acclimate,” He said pointedly. 

“Explain!” he growled. 

Castiel sighed as if it should be so obvious to the both of them. “Not only has her soul just traveled to earth from Heaven, her soul is back in HER body, well a version of her body anyways. Both pieces are fighting over what processes to deal with first; oxygen, movement, memories.. they have to catch up” 

“So she’s okay? This is normal?” Dean asked heatedly.

“Normal being relative”, Sam muttered.

“Her body won the fight, her brain was going too fast so it put her in the best state it could in order to sort itself out first.” Blank looks. Cas pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Sleep.” 

“Speaking of bodies, sorry a version of her..”, Sam interjected “How does she even have one? The hardware store, the explosio-”

“Cas, there was nothing left to put her soul back in to”. Dean finished quietly, still working the muscles in his jaw.

“Yes, well, it seems you can thank Balthazar for that one”. 

Still cradling Jo in his lap from the ground, it was Dean’s turn to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration at the mention of the patience-testing angel, “Explain”, he grumbled. 

“Do you remember when he un-sunk the Titanic?”

 

\--

 

“So let me get this straight”, Dean sighed tiredly. They were back on the highway, Jo tucked across the back seat while the 3 boys shared the front. Cas sitting between the brothers, hands awkwardly on his knees. 

“When Atropos made you re-sink the Titanic, Balthazar STILL went behind her back and stashed a few surprises around the fricken universe”

“Yes”, Cas nodded

 “And Jo’s body being one of them, sans her run in with a bomb”, Sam added.

 “Yes”, Cas nodded again.

 “Because she’s important somehow”, Dean continued.

 “And God.. told you to pull her out of Heaven?” Sam asked. “Why?” 

“I.. I don’t know that yet.” Cas frowned.

“Well then”, Dean let out a long breath. “What do we do now?”

“I will try to figure out why I was told to save her specifically, why she’s important - or what she’s important too. She will remain with you, under your protection”, And with a ruffle of feathers, Cas was gone.

“CAS!”, Son of a BITCH!” Dean bellowed, slamming his hand into the steering wheel.

“Dean, careful”, Sam warned, checking over his shoulder to Jo in the back seat.

 Dean flicked his eyes to the rearview mirror, watching her brows furrow momentarily but otherwise seeming to remain unconscious.

 “Fuck”, he cursed again.

 “What’s the best course here”, Sam asked. “I mean, we can’t exactly take her with us on this job - and we ca--”

 “I’m not leavin’ her anywhere”, Dean ground out, “not a chance.”

“Okay, so..” 

“I say we get a motel, we’ll figure it out from there.”

 

\--


	4. 04

**_Chapter 04;_ **

 

 

>  
> 
> “And what is your relationship to Dean Winchester?”  
>  _“We worked together”, She’s sitting on an old wooden chair, a dark_ _skinned man in ancient egyptian type garb to her left. A few feet in front_ of her, Sam sits with his hands clasped on a table, looking anxious.  
>  _Dean sits at the same table, wrapped in chains, barely able to make eye_ contact with her as the light from the torches dance across his face.  
>  “Isn’t it true you admired him?” The man asked.  
>  _“Well as a hunter, yea. As a guy - he was kind of a jerk”, she chuckled_ lightly before seeing the brief hurt on Dean’s face.  
>  “So you saw him as a mentor of sorts?”  
>  “I wouldn’t put it like that”, she frowned at the man.  
>  “How would you put it?”  
>  _“I don’t know, I trusted him. So if you’re trying to say he was a bad guy_ or someth--”  
>  “Was it hard?” The man prodded impatiently.  
>  _“What?”  
>  _ _“Working with him… Considering your feelings?”_    
> 
> _\--_
> 
> “You can come out now.” His low voice rumbled steadily.  
>  _“You know I’d never do this” Jo said sadly. Dean was standing in a ring_ of salt, in the middle of a dingy motel room.  
>  “I know”, He was looking at her now, sad eyes laced with guilt.  
>  “I guess it’s his thing, some kind of twisted eye for an eye”  
>  _“It’s okay”  
>  _ _“No it’s not, you deserve better”, She said stubbornly.  
>  _“No, you did. You deserved better Jo”.
> 
> _She sees her hands cranking the knobs on the old gas stove to max and_ _then she’s in front of him, windows shattering, wind blowing at his salt_ _circle. She takes his lighter from his pocket, and reaches up to cup his_ _cheek._

 

And then Jo is shooting up, gasping for air, she’s sweaty and aching, eyes wide as she looks wildly around.

“Jo, hey Jo”, The scene in front of her is too familiar as Sam jumps up from a table a few feet in front of her. Dean looks wide eyed at her from the same table _but he’s not in chains_ and she struggled to blink away the memory. “It’s okay, you’re okay”, She can see Sam in her perifs beside the bed she’s occupying, almost cooing positive affirmations at her. Feeling the breeze from his haste to get to her, float across her face, but she can’t tear her eyes from Dean.

“I tried to kill you”. She whispers at him. Sam knits his eyebrows together, looking between her and Dean.

Dean gives his head a quick shake, looking down at the table and then back up at her “Osiris”, he says the name slowly.

“Who”, she was frowning at him.

“Osiris, the egyptian god, the judge of the dead”, Sam jumped in. “He snatched Dean outside a bar in Michigan a few years back and put him on trial, you were his first witness”

“Judge of the dead”, Jo murmured, running her hand across the back of her neck, pulling the sweat sticky tendrils away from her skin. “I was dead.” She looks over at Sam, then back up to Dean.

“Yes”, he said, nodding his head again slowly.

“So I became the thing that I.. that you have spent your life.. Lives”, she corrects glancing at Sam, “..saving people from. I became--”

“No, you didn’t”, Dean said firmly, pushing himself up to standing, his big hands splayed on the table for leverage. “Osiris pulled you out of heaven for that twisted trial of his.”

“Heaven -- how..”, Jo stumbled over the words. The boys watching her try to wrap her head around the information, watching her struggle to keep the emotion off her face and out of her voice. She took a long shaky breath, eyes searching the space in front of her. “How did I die?” she asked quietly.

“Jo,” Sam put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, his tone pushing her not to do this right now.

“How did I die?”, she asked more firmly shaking Sam off, looking Dean straight in the eye.

He stared at her for a moment, muscles working his jaw before he scrubbed a hand over his face to ease his tension. “In Carthage”

“How”, she demanded again. She could tell he hated this but somehow knew he wouldn’t deny her.

“We were there to take our shot at the devil”, he started. Working his way around to lean on the front of the table, folding his arms across his chest. “We ran in to Meg” seeing Jo’s frown at the name, he clarified “A demon we’d all had run-ins with before.” Jo nodded him on as she pulled her legs in to sit cross legged. “She had hellhounds with her, and we were trying to outrun them. One got me down and you came running back, shootin’ at that bitch, saved my life”, he smiled to himself. “But another one got you while your back was turned, took you down and raked you ribs to thigh”, he was watching Jo’s reactions now, trying to read every emotion on her face. “I picked you up and we made a run for it, to an abandoned hardware store about a block away. When we got you in and down, it .. it was bad Jo, and you were bleeding out fast. But you, bein’ you, just.. you reigned everyone in. You came up with the plan for the bombs to take out as many of the hounds as you could, they had all our scents. You knew you wouldn’t survive your wounds, but you wanted to give us a chance, and Ellen--” Dean sucked in a breath now, eyes shining. “Your mom wouldn’t leave you, wouldn’t let you die alone. She--”, Jo had tears in her eyes now as one perfect tear slid slowly down Dean’s face. “Someone needed to open the doors to let the hounds in, to get them as close to the bombs as possible”

“But I--”, Jo swiped at the tears that were streaming down her face now as she tried not to fully break down, Sam rubbing slow comforting circles on her back. “I just.. Why don’t I remember this?”

Sam and Dean exchanged pensive looks.

“Cas brought your soul back to earth”, Dean said.

She frowned, “I don’t understand”

“We really don’t know any more than that at this point”, Sam shook his head. “Other than it was an order from God.”

She looked at him now, studying the tension in his face, reading his frustration there. “But.. the roadhouse.. Dad and..” She looked back at Dean. “Uncle John?”

She tried to decipher the look that flashed behind Dean’s eyes.. shame?

“We believe that was your heaven”, he said sadly. “The version that your soul built; bits and pieces of your happiest memories but your dad.. he was on a job with our dad when we were all kids and.. it went sideways. Our dad—” Dean shook his head, “he used your dad as bait, to draw a demon out in the open, tried to get a shot off but the demon got to your dad first.” Dean rushed through the last details, not making eye contact with her, remembering the first time he’d heard this story. The roles being reversed and the information being snapped at him by Jo as she struggled with her emotions about the betrayal. He’d let her stomp away from him them, retreating from a new reminder of her fathers death and allowing a safe distance to grow between them, it had been easier that way.

Jo was full on crying now, no way to stop it as she tried to claw at her memories and feelings, trying to corroborate all the information she’d just received. Too much information, it didn’t fit. “I don’t.. I can’t remember any of this.”

“Cas said it might take some time for you to remember” Sam said steadily. “Your body and mind are trying to work through alot, you’ve been gone a few years and.. your body is technically from a different timeline.”

Jo whipped her head to face him,”my body is what?!”

“Uhhh.. it’s a long story”, Sam looked at her nervously. “Maybe we should get you something to eat first, ease you into things a little bit - it’s probably a lot for you right now”

“I.. yea okay”, She said with a lost expression on her face as Sam got to his feet.

“I’ll go grab us sumthin”, He grabbed his wallet and phone off the table, Dean fishing baby’s keys from his pocket and tossing them to Sam. “Uh, hey Jo?” he looked over at her, stopping as he pulled the motel door open.

“Yea”, She looked up at him, dragging a hand through her hair.

“You remember us then, our names at least?”, a look of hope flashing across his face.

“Yea Sam”, She gave him a small smile. “You, Dean and Castiel”

He smiled at her, “Good, that’s good.” and with a quick nod, walked out.

“That’s a good start”, Dean said with his back to her now across the room, he was digging in what she assumed was his duffle, coming back to the bed with some clothes. “Here, we can go get you some stuff in the morning but you may as well shower and get something clean on.” She quirked an eyebrow at the bundle of clothes. “Sorry”, he shrugged “we don’t really pack anything comfy.”

“It’s okay”, she nodded at him. “Thanks”

“Oh, and here”, he said, reaching behind him for something off the table; he flipped it over in his hand to catch the blade, handing her the hilt of a small hunting knife. Black handle with brass details, and _W.A.H_ engraved on the handle. “It was-”

“My dads”, she cut him off, taking the knife in both hands, she looked up at him  - a look of awe on her face. “How…?”

“I must have grabbed it in Carthage, before.. - I think I used it to strip the wires for the detonator.. I don’t really remember.” He said, trying to think back. “It was tucked in my back pocket, I didn’t even notice it until we were back at bobby’s after the colt failed.”

She got up from the bed, and walked slowly to stand in front of Dean, pushing up to her tiptoes and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Thank you”, she breathed quietly into his shoulder, pulling back before he could wrap his arms around her. Still too soon to feel fully comfortable with the embrace of a quasi-stranger. She stepped around him to grab the clothes from the bed, flashing him a little smile as she ducked her head down and headed for the bathroom.

She closed the bathroom door with a quiet click, Dean still standing in the middle of the motel room looking about as lost as she felt. She knocked the lid of the toilet seat down and dropped the bundle of clothes on top, placing the knife on the top of the water tank. She turned around, pulling the shower curtain back, cranked the hot water and peeled her grimey clothes off, letting them drop in a heap on the floor.

She was about to jump into the shower when she caught her movements out of the corner of her eye, in the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. Stepping up to the mirror she looked at herself for the first time in what felt like years. _Technically that’s true._ She looked exhausted, dark circles sat under her eyes, which were rimmed red from crying, tracking salty paths down her cheeks. Her hair hung limp and greasy, dirt crusting her hairline, and smudging her cheeks. Her eyes travelled down, taking inventory of the rest of her body - which was mostly as she remembered it, except for the 3 pink lines tracking from her her sternum down across her stomach and over her left hip. The tears started again - slowly - as she traced the damaged skin with her fingertips. They weren’t the angry red marks of a fresh scar, no puckered skin or swollen welts. These were old. A light pink against the alabaster white of her skin, smooth and only slightly raised.

She turned from the mirror and stepped into the shower, unable to look at it anymore. That scar - a permanent brand reminding her that this body, her body was from a different time. The thought squeezed at her lungs, she slid down the tiled wall and curled her knees to her chest under the aggressive stream of water.

 

\--


	5. 05

**_Chapter 05;_ **

 

The 3 of them were perched around the small motel table, with an amazingly greasy fast food spread in front of them. Jo pulled her still wet hair over one shoulder as she took a sip of her beer, leaving a wet patch on the tshirt Dean had lent her. She hadn’t missed the look Sam had sent in his direction when she’d walked out of the bathroom donning that tshirt and a pair of Dean’s boxers, but he didn’t say a word - just dropped the food on the table and laughed as her stomach rumbled when the smell hit her.

As promised, the boys had kept up a steady stream of information while they ate, targeted mostly around the encounters between the 3 of them, and anyone else she would or should remember, they’d continue to share what they could as her memories sorted themselves out.

“I need it see it”, Jo stated shifting in her chair to tuck one leg under her, gaze jumping between the 2 men. “Please.” she asked quietly, settling her gaze on Dean. Brown eyes meeting green with steely determination.    

“Okay”, he nodded slowly, knowing exactly what topic she had jumped back to.

“Dean, I Don--”, Sam interjected, “it’s a full days drive.”

“It’s fine, I’ll take her”, Dean shot Sam a look that silenced his argument. The boys had updated her on the destruction of the Roadhouse, and he understood why she needed this. “Get Garth to meet you here” He bent his head towards his brother. “You two can take care of the job by the border and we’ll meet you back at the bunker.”

She nodded back at him with a soft, “Thank you”

 

—

 

They set out before dawn the next morning, driving in silence except the low ballads playing from the cassette deck - Dean had spotted a copy of _REO Speedwagon ‘The Hits’_ in the discount bin at the gas station on the way out of town and snuck it in the deck while she was in the bathroom. She hadn’t said anything about it as they hit the highway but he could see the ghost of a smile on her lips as she drummed her fingers against her leg in time with the notes of _Keep on loving you._  She’d opted to change back into her jeans, as grimy as they were, not wanting to venture out into the world in a pair of boxers, although she’d left on Dean’s shirt after cuffing the sleeves and tucking the front into her jeans so it wasn’t drowning her quite as much.

They had all the windows rolled down as the cool morning turned warm and muggy around them, promising another scorching Summer day. Her blonde waves whipping around her face as she watched the streaks of orange and red peek out from the horizon. Dean scrubbed a hand over his face focusing on the road, and the reality she would face when they got to Nebraska.

As expected, the closer they got to the roadhouse, the more tension radiated from Jo. When they were only few minutes down the highway, she was sitting pin straight on the edge of the seat, both knees bouncing and chewing on her lip - he was sure - hard enough to draw blood. Dean wasn’t looking forward to this, but understood that she needed it, that it would hopefully help solidify the facts for her. It was one thing for them to fill her in on the years she’d missed, it was another to see the evidence of their stories. Without the proof, they were just that - stories. He also understood how it felt to not wholly trust your mind, and in hers - that life in heaven was fact not fiction.

She sucked in a breath as he rounded the corner into what had once been the parking lot in front of the little bar, she was out the door before he even had the car completely stopped; but she didn’t make it far. He threw the gear in park and jumped out as she dropped to her knees, one hand still on the door, the other covering her mouth - barely muffling the sob that wrenched from her. He rounded the car, his heart breaking at her pain - Jo, on her knees now with both hands braced against the ground, sobs wracking her body as she stared at the remains of her childhood home.

Dean dropped down beside her, pulling her small frame to cradle against him. He half expected her to push him away but instead she curled into him - so he didn’t say anything, didn’t try to shush her tears or calm her down - just held her there and let her cry.

The years hadn’t been good to what remained of the roadhouse. The last time Dean had been here, there was still portion, albeit small, left standing. That had long since fallen, crumbling under the destruction of the structure and exposure to the elements.

“She wasn’t here when it happened”, he reminded her quietly after some time, lips against Jo’s hair as he held her. “She’d made her way to Bobby’s after she found it destroyed, you were on a hunt.” He continued. He didn’t need to point out where Ellen had actually perished.

“Ash?”, Jo choked out.

“We found his remains, and sent him off proper”, he replied.

She just nodded, jamming the heels of her hands into her eyes in an attempt to stop the tears as she hiccuped, sucking in air to calm her breathing again.

They had decided to camp the night behind the Roadhouse, Dean didn’t have the heart to pull her away, it wouldn’t be the first - or last - time he would sleep in the car. So after leaving Sam a voicemail, he built a small fire, tossed down a blanket and handed Jo a beer from the cooler. Now she was sitting in front of the fire, knees tucked up to her chest, the reflection of the flames dancing across her glassy eyes. She was a million miles away as he watched her.

He sat on the ground a few feet away, leaning against the back tire of the impala, legs straight out crossed at the ankles. They stayed like that for a some time - long after the sun went down, until Dean started with the long blinks, head bobbing down to his chest. His head snapped up when he heard the faint sound of his name on her lips, his bleary eyes trying to focus on her silhouette.

“It’s okay, go lie down, we don’t need you with a sore neck in the morning from sleeping like that”, Jo smiled at him

“Na--I’m.. It’s good. I’m good”, He forced out, trying to get his tired brain to form the words.

“Go, I’m” she stopped, “it’s fine”, She made a shooing motion at him.

“Okay..okay”, He slowly dragged himself to his feet, opened the drivers side door and crawled across the seat. Leaving the door open so he could keep her within eyeline, he rolled to his back and promptly fell asleep, booted feet dangling off the edge of the seat.

Jo stayed in front of the fire until it dwindled down. Blowing on the smoldering embers, watching them light up at the contact with oxygen before eventually blinking out when she stopped. It wasn’t dawn yet but the first bits of light were starting to scatter across the atmosphere. She could just make out the shape of the Roadhouse’s foundations, if she squinted it just looked like the jagged rock face of a mountain range, instead of the piles of rubble and blackened timber. She yawned and fisted her eyes, swollen and scratchy from crying, fuck she was exhausted. This was exhausting - this mess in her brain - trying to pick the differences between heaven and reality, constantly comparing details. She looked towards the car, listening to Dean’s heavy breathing. She knew this wasn’t easy on him either, or Sam - she knew they were re-living their own grief along with her, memories that ended the way every hunter fears. The deaths of loved ones. She knew they held a lot of guilt for what happened to her family and this wouldn’t be the hardest would for them all to reopen. This was the proverbial band-aid to all the baggage Jo would have to re-live.

“One down”, She sighed audibly.

Sleep. She needed sleep.

 

\--

 

 

 

 

 

> _She sees the man’s shoulders stiffen when he feels the point of her shotgun gun touch his back._  
>  _“Oh god, please let that be a rifle.”_  
>  _She cocks her gun. “No, I'm just real happy to see you. Don't move.”_  
>  _“Not moving, copy that.” He said “You know, you should know something miss. When you put a rifle on someone, you don't want to put it right against their back. Because it makes it real easy to do…” He spun around, grabbing the barrel of the shotgun and twisting it from her hands smoothly with a grin. “That.”_  
>  _His head snapped back when Jo’s fist connects with his nose, taking back her gun as the man doubles over, clutching his face._  
>  _“Sam! Need some help in here” before muttering “I can't see, I can't even see.”_  
>  _“Sorry, Dean, I can't right now. I'm a... little tied up.” A taller man says - Sam - she assumes, walking from the back, both hands on his head. Her mom nudging him forward slowly with a handgun to the back of his skull._  
>  _“Sam? Dean? … Winchester?”, Her mother questions._  
>  _“Yeah.” They defeatedly chime in unison._  
>  _Her mom laughs, “Son of a bitch.”_  
>  _“Mom, you know these guys?”_  
>  _“Yeah, I think these are John Winchester's boys.” She lowers her gun_  
>  _“Hey, I'm Ellen. This is my daughter Jo.”_  
>  _Jo also lowers her gun and Dean smiles at her._  
>  _“Hey.” She says sternly_  
>  _“You're not gonna hit me again, are you?” He asks, hands still protecting his face._

 

Jo woke from the relatively pleasant memory to the rumble of the impala under her cheek, a gentle purring in her ear as she fought the urge to let it lull her back to sleep. She pulled on her other senses to bring her back; the feel of the leather seat under her hands, fingers tracing the stitching, the smell of hot asphalt on the wind from the open windows, and the sound of the rock anthem strumming from the dash.

She squinted her eyes open, testing against the glaring daylight. _Ugh_ she groaned inwardly as she squeezed them shut again - everything hurt. She felt like she had a full body hangover, still recovering it seemed from her glorious descent. _Apparently it does hurt when you fall from Heaven_ , she thought sardonically. She tried once more to open her eyes, focusing on Dean’s hand while her retinas adjusted to the blinding sun. He had his arm up over the back of the front seat, her eyes following his long fingers strumming against the leather. She sat up slowly, her hair whipping wildly against the billowing wind, and watched him. He hadn’t yet noticed she was awake, so she took advantage of the rare opportunity to study him with his walls down. From what she could read so far from him, Dean Winchester was strung about as tight as they come, that devil-May-care attitude she struggled to remember, beaten down as the years went by.

She smiled as she watched him, the intro to Boston’s _Long Time_ building up as he bobbed his head along. Pulling his arm back to drum both hands on the steering wheel, fully getting into the beat.

“It’s been such a long tiiiiime, I think I should be goooooin’..” He crooned along in a low voice. “But time doesn’t wait for meeee, it keeps on rooooollin.”

Her smile widened, fully alert now and enjoying the glimpse of a quasi-relaxed Dean. She’d wager this was probably his happiest place - in his pride & joy of a car, with an open road and good music.

“Well I’m taking my time, I’m just movin oooon, you’ll forget about me after I’ve been gone.” Dean’s eyes met hers in the rear view mirror as he hit his last note, giving her a bashful grin before quickly dropping his gaze, leaning over it kill the radio.

“Sorry”, He chuckled “Didn’t mean to wake you… Boston.” He shrugged at the radio.

Jo, still smiling at him, waved off his apology and crawled over the seat.

Dean watched her for a moment, a grin breaking his features when she snapped the radio back on and cranked the volume before sitting back with her knees tucked against the dashboard and her arm out the open window, fingers dancing through the wind.

It was her - like this - that kept knocking the wind from his lungs, like someone had punched him in the stomach. The little ism’s that were all Jo, that she was alive, flesh and bone; when she should have been blissfully tucked up in her heaven. It was hard to see her now, knowing how she died and how they had said goodbye - especially when she was still learning all that had happened. He had warring images of her in his mind - her like this: hair wild, cheeks flushed, goosebumps prickling the backs of her arms as wind hit warm skin, the bodies natural reactions to life - but then he’d get a flash of then: the shallow rise and fall of her chest as her blood pooled out across tile of the hardware store, the quiver of her lip when she realized her part of story was coming to an end.

Dean shook the images from his mind, focusing on enjoying this little moment instead. He hit the gas, letting the car open up on the highway and from the corner of his eye, he saw her close her eyes and smile. Enjoying the moment along with him.

 

—


	6. 06

**_Chapter 06;_ **

 

They made it back to the bunker before Sam, though he’d called when they’d been stopped in Holdrege for lunch and a shopping trip, to update that he was on the road home. Dean filled her in on the job they’d been en route too when she touched down and that Garth stepped in to help while they were at the roadhouse. Apparently it had gone smoothly; another pair of hunters had been there already so most of the leg work was done and it’d given Sam a few extra sets of hands shootin’ off rock salt rounds while he did the banishing spell.

It’d felt weird letting Dean pay for everything, even though she knew his cards were all frauds.

“It’s fine”, Dean waved it off. “When Sam gets back he’ll work his magic; IDs, credit cards, it’ll be fine.”

“I know”, she said as they walked down the stairs into the landing at the bunker. “It’s just weird, I’ve always paid my way”

“How? Hunters don’t tip that well.”

“They also don’t focus on pool that well when they’re 3 sheets with a pretty girl in front of them.” She laughed.

“Yea.. that’s true. Well if you still feel weird about it when you’re all set up - you can buy us a round.” He’d smiled at her, dropping his gear onto a table that was lit up with a world map - like something out of Dr. Strangelove.

Jo dropped her bags on the table as well and stepped up the few stairs into the library, Dean watched her eyes light up as she looked around, jaw hanging slightly open.

“Welcome to the Batcave”, he quipped.

“What.. is all this?” She asked, walking around the tables and scanning the shelves of books. Pausing every few feet and tilting her head to read a title.  

“This is the Men of Letters bunker, apparently the safest place on earth”, Dean recited. “Every object, scroll and spell ever collected over thousands of years, under one roof - it’s got heat, power and surprisingly decent water pressure.”

“And you, and Sam.. you’re legacies?” She asked - glancing over her shoulder from reading another book title, referring to what little Dean had explained about the bunker and Men of Letters over lunch.

“Yea, our grandad on dad’s side was a Man of Letters, as was his father before him and so on.”

“And you live here now, this is home?”

“Yup, got our own rooms and everything”, Dean beamed proudly. “Speaking of, there’s plenty of bedrooms so why don’t we find you one and get you settled?”

“Sure..”, She trailed off, finding another interesting book on the shelves.

“The books’ll still be here when your settled Jo.” He laughed at her, ducking back into the war room to grab her bags. “Imagine the case files you can build with this repertoire huh?”

“No kidding, it’s like a research gold mine.” She followed him back to take a few of her bags.

“Man, you and Sam are huge geeks.” She stuck her tongue out at him and followed him through a doorway to another wing of the bunker.

“That one’s mine”, he nodded at a door with a plaque reading Room 11. “Sam’s is up there, number 21 - is this okay?”

They stopped in front of Room 16, halfway between his and Sam’s respective rooms, Dean nudging the door open with the toe of his boot, allowing Jo to step past him and look around. The room itself was a reasonable size with a twin bed in the center, a lamp on the bedside table with a low set mid century modern-esque teak and leather chair to the left. There was also a small desk and bookshelf on one wall, and a wardrobe with drawers on another.

“It’s perfect.” She smiled, dropping her bags on the bed.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it then - showers are past my room the other way, around the corner from the kitchen.” He placed the bags he was holding on the floor just inside the doorway.

“I’m gunna need a map.” She laughed.

“Nah, you’ll get it.” He threw her a quick smile before walking out, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Jo just sat down on the bed and looked around, feeling very out of sorts.

And maybe just a little bit lost.

 

—

 

“Hey man”, Sam called from the war room, dumping his duffle and shotgun on the table. He jogged up the stairs to find Dean sitting at the library table looking forlorn, nothing in front of him but a glass and a bottle. Whiskey from the looks of it. “Where’s Jo?”

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, scratching at the shadow of stubble along his jaw, pulling himself into the conversation. “Uuhhm, she’s getting settled into a room.” He took a swig of his drink, yup - whiskey straight, Sam can tell by the way he holds it on his tongue before swallowing it down.

“How’s she doing? She okay?” He asks.

“Seems to be”, Dean nods absently. “But to be honest.. who knows.”

Sam makes his way to the table and sits down across from him, trying to get Dean to make eye contact. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.” Dean’s eyes snap to Sam at the curse. “Man, it’s okay to not be.. okay. Jo’s death.. and Ellens“, Sam continued, leaning back in his chair and bringing a hand up to his chin. “We’ve had a lot of hard ones… but theirs was—“

“110% our fault.” Dean cuts him off.

“Dean.”

“She got clawed because of me, Sam. She bled out on that floor because of me.”

“She signed up for the shot to get Lucifer” Sam interjected. “Her and Ellen both, and you know if Bobby wasn’t in that chair - he’d of been right there with us.”

“I know.. I know. But how many people huh? How many more are we gunna lose? And..” Dean shook his head, Sam catching the emotion behind his eyes. “What if we lose her again? ‘Cause I’ll bet my bottom dollar, we’ll be responsible.”

Dean knocked back the last of his drink, bringing the glass down hard against the wood and pushing away from the table, kicking his chair back further as he stood. He turned, taking a couple steps before stopping with his empty glass on the edge of the table, fingers gripping the rim.

“I can’t be responsible for her death.” He spoke low, with his back to Sam, “Not again.”

Sam sat there, chewing his finger as he watched his brother walk away with his shoulders slumped and head hanging low. Of everyone that could have come back from the dead, he knew Jo probably topped the list as one of the hardest on Dean. There’d always been something between them, he’d seen them dance around each other for years. Wrong place, wrong time. Jo’d been one of the few women who never took his brothers crap, always called him on it. She’d also probably be the only one that would never have tried to settle him into some apple-pie kinda life. As much as they’d both wish for it - neither of them would ever be able to handle it. She wanted to do good just as much as he did; but where Dean was more about redemption these past few years, as if saving more people would make up for the ones they’d lost - Jo just wanted to help people because she knew what went bump in the night, she felt responsible to keep them safe and ignorant.

He also wasn’t naive enough to think that whatever brought Jo back was some sort of blessing.

Winchesters weren’t that lucky.

 

—


	7. 07

**_Chapter 07;_ **

 

_Knock knock_

Jo looked up to see Sam’s tall stature filling the frame as he slowly opened the door.

“Hey Sam.”

“Hey.” He said quietly, running his hand over the back of his neck. “Just wanted to see how you were settling in.”

“Not bad I guess”, She shrugged. “This place is pretty cool.”

“Yea, we like it.” He smiled.

As silence stretched out, Jo stopped folding her pile of clothes to look at Sam who was sheepishly looking at the floor, shuffling his feet and avoiding eye contact with her.

“Sam?”

“Yea?” He looked up at her, standing with her arms crossed and looking slightly annoyed.

“If this is.. weird, I can go.” She said quickly, annoyance giving way to insecurity.

“What?! No! No Jo, it’s fine.” Sam had his hands up, as if she were a spooked animal.

“It is weird”, She said flatly. “I get it, I’m not supposed to be here, let alone be _here_ ”, she spread her arms, palms towards the ceiling to emphasize the bunker.

“It’s not that Jo, yea it’s.. weird isn’t really the right word I guess but it’s more so that it’s.. you, you know? Like.. Dean has no idea what to do with himself right now I think.”

“He can barely look at me.” She sat down on the edge of the twin bed, “neither can you really.”

Sam stepped into the room at her nod in his direction, grabbing the chair from the desk. He sat down in front of her, elbows on his knees, arms hanging down with his hands clasped.

“We just… we wanna make sure you’re okay.” She didn’t look at him, just watched him clasp and unclasp his hands in emphasis of his words. “We know this is.. a lot, we’ve been there.. oddly enough. Maybe not exactly the same but we’ve both had to try to find normal again.”

“Hell.” She says quietly.

“Yea. I mean, the good news with you is, from what Cas says, your soul is fine.. so that’s a win at least.” Jo flashed him a small smile. “So, as far as the memories go, they’ll catch up.”

“Yea, I’m remembering a bit more about things pre-Carthage.” She shrugged. “Some of it’s getting clearer.”

Sam nodded along, prompting her to reveal anything specific. They’d never really spent much time together just the two of them, Dean had always been the focus for both of them if they were all together. Although if he was being selfish, deep down - he hoped she hadn’t gotten her memories of their incident in Duluth back yet. He’d seen her face when she thought she’d tried to kill Dean, he didn’t want to see her reaction to that particular run-in when Meg had possessed him.

“What about your heaven?”, Sam asked when she’d been quiet for a moment, chewing on her lip, internally flipping through anything new in her memories.

“Umm.. I remember some of it I think, it’s starting to get kinda fuzzy.”

“I wonder if that’s for the best maybe?” He suggested, she looked up at him confused. “Like… so you’re not focused on the loss of it?”

“I dunno”, she shook her head. “I’m kinda stuck on the last bit, when Cas came to me. It was like he took the blinders off, I could see.. the cracks, the mistakes. I keep analyzing it you know? I.. I don’t know if it was actually _my_ heaven.” Her brows were furrowed in hard concentration.

“Why do you say that?”

“Well like..”, She pulled her legs up to cross them on the bed. “if my mind.. or my soul or whichever, created that heaven for me - yeah it’d be the best parts right? Maybe a little glammed up because we view our happiest times with rose coloured glasses but.. wouldn’t your soul keep the imperfections if they were part of the good memory?”

 

—

 

Dean came around the corner into the library to find Jo and Sam together at one of the large tables. Books, papers and scrolls covering pretty much any available space between them.

“Research mode activated?” He quipped. “Avengers assemble!”

“Ha ha.” Jo deadpanned at him, flipping the page of the massive tome in front of her - the book was big enough that she was perched up on her knees in her chair.

“We’re looking into heavens.” Sam informed, not looking up at him.

“Heaven _S_.. as in plural?” He asked, coming around to perch against the edge of the other large table in the room.

“Well specifically.. individual heavens.” Jo added. “Like.. if there are any rules or.. guidelines on how they come to be.”

“Okay, assuming this is in regards to yours.. I’ll bite - why?” Dean asked.

Sam nodded at her to explain so she shared what she’d said to Sam. “The more I think about it, the more the details in my heaven don’t add up.”

 

They were still at that table some hours later, elbow deep in lore; Sam rubbing his temples in an attempt to focus his eyes, Jo furiously reading and re-reading her notes, Dean with his head in hand and a pencil between his teeth.

“I can’t, I’m done”, Dean gave up first, throwing his pencil down and slamming his book shut with a snap - causing Jo to jump. “We’re going out!”

“Huh?” Jo squinted at him.

“We - are - going - out.” He emphasized his statement with hand gestures - walking his fingers along his other palm.

“Dean, we shou—“, Sam tried to reason.

“Nope, we need a break.” Dean cut him off, pushing away from the table. “We need food, we need a drink - preferably a strong one - and we need a break Sammy”

“He’s not entirely wrong”, Jo shot a half smile across the table at an unconvinced Sam.

“Look, I’ve been making the call to Cas since yesterday. The lore is pretty _dry_ \- I’m not saying stop completely but I’m going cross-eyed man.” Dean reasoned, tossing Sam his jacket from the hook on the wall. “Jo, go change.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the bedrooms.

“What, sweatpants aren’t suitable attire?”, She sassed back at him as she stood, stretching out the kinks of being folded up in a hard chair for hours.

“No offense, but we won’t get you past a bouncer with no ID if you’re wearing that.” Dean jerked his thumb towards the bedrooms again as she jogged off,

So out they went, to a little back alley bar that would look past Jo’s lack of ID in favour of the perky blonde’s more visually appealing qualities - any barman would tell you, at least half the clientele will spend a helluva lot more money if there are pretty things to look at.

Jo, after inhaling her burger and first 2 beer, was eyeing the dance floor - fingers drumming against the tabletop, bouncing the foot she had crossed over her leg in time with the music. The bar wasn’t big but it was one of those that flipped after a certain time on a Friday night, pushing back tables to create a space for a small dancefloor.

She caught Dean’s chuckle in her direction, when she looked at him straight on, he only tipped his head towards the dancefloor in silent encouragement

“No judgement”, he said, taking a pull from his beer. She smiled at him as she hopped off her bar stool.

Missing the exchange, Sam’s eyebrows shot up in confusion at her exit then smiled when she wove her way through the other patrons, finding a spot near the middle of the floor - still within eyesight of their table. “Guess she could use a bit of fun huh?”

Dean only nodded, eyes watching her; a smile on her lips, her features relaxing as she swayed to the music. He was met with a raised eyebrow and knowing smirk when he swung his eyes back to Sam. “What?” He asked genuinely.

“Nothing”, Sam chuckled into his beer, earning a glare from his brother. “Not - a - thing.”

“So.. what do you think about her theory?” Dean asked, changing subjects from Sam’s chastising.

“I mean, it kinda makes sense.” Sam sat forward, elbows resting on the table, fingers picking at the label on his bottle. “I think we need to hear something from Cas soon - hopefully he’ll have some answers.”

“Yea”, Dean nodded, taking another swig as he flicked his eyes to the dance floor again, the brothers fell into silence both retreating into their own thoughts as the music in the bar increased another view decibels. Only breaking the peace to laugh when Jo rushed up to the table later; cheeks flushed, eyes glowing, carting a round of drinks. A beer each for the boys in one had, slim fingers wrapped around bottle necks and a trio of shots; whiskey - one more thing Dean could appreciate about Jo - no sickly sweet girly drinks for her. She plunked the shot glasses down, having also held them in one hand by their rims, fingers dipped in the amber liquid - licking them clean as the boys each reached for one. They clinked a quick cheers and she tossed hers back, flipping the shot glass upside down on the table before bouncing back to the dance floor.

“I wonder how her tolerance held up”, Sam laughed and shook his head at the blonde who appeared to be having a great time. “She might feel this tomorrow.”

“Well, if it’s something we have plenty of stock in back at the bunker, it’s hair of the dog.” Dean chuckled.

 

—

 


	8. 08

**_Chapter 08;_ **

 

Jo was in the middle of the packed dance floor, hips swaying, eyes closed, hands lifting the curtain of blond curls off her neck. She was hot, sweaty and tired but it felt good to move, to let loose - just a little. She’d never been into the bar scene, finding it hard to enjoy when she was regularly the one slinging drinks from the other side, but she was enjoying the anonymity of this. Glad she hadn’t had to side-step any unwanted attention, which could be in part to the 2 linebacker sized men sitting a few feet away. The cocky guy who’d thrown a hundred on the bar to pay for her round, eyeing her up and down with a lick of his lips - had damn near choked on his drink when he saw which table she’d strut back to, Dean turning to give him a cheeky toast.

Pulled out of her thoughts by the feeling of someone watching her, Jo looked over her shoulder, a little disappointed when it wasn’t Dean green eyes she saw. She’d caught him focused on her a few times, not sure what to read in his gaze.

The conversations pertaining to her return were a constant weight, and it was exhausting. Always at the back of her mind, attempting to piece things together when something triggered her brain. If she were being completely honest, Dean Winchester didn’t help the situation. Every look from him was laced with some sort of emotion she couldn’t decipher, but if she stared too long, he’d throw the shutters up. Like he was afraid she’d somehow break the code and figure him out.

From the fragments she’d been able to string together thus far, Jo assumed there’d been something between them, although she was sure they’d ever acted on it. Not  enough bravado in her yet to broach the subject with him, for some reason he unnerved her. Always hyper aware of where he was in relation to her, like you would do with a predator; afraid he’d pounce when her back was turned.. or disappear. He was likely to do both.

She caught the feeling again - someone’s eyes on her. Turning to catching a flash out of the corner of her eye, she stopped and squinted through the throng of bodies. There _was_ someone watching her - hovering at the edge of the crowd.  She couldn’t see their face though, not because she didn’t have a clear view but like she literally couldn’t look at them- _him?_ straight on. As if he was too bright to see clearly, she brought a hand to her eyes to shield some of the glare from the flashing bar lights.

_What the fuck?_

-

Dean glanced at the dance floor for the umpteenth time, this one because he’d lost sight of Jo. He’d been letting her do her thing, have fun without feeling like she was being babysat, not so subtly keeping her in his perifs.

He found her, standing stock still, looking at the edge of the crowd. He could see she was tense, body coiled like a spring, like she was ready to throw down.. or bolt. This had him sitting straight up off his barstool, fully alert, eyes scanning the crowd to see what’d spooked her.

Sam glanced up from his phone at Dean’s snap to attention. “What’s up?” He questioned, sitting up himself to see what caught his brothers eye, the set of Dean’s jaw alerting him that he was in hunter mode.

“I dunno yet.” He said quickly, still trying to locate what Jo was looking at. He jumped off his stool and pushed his way through the crowd; eyes never leaving her. Touching her elbow lightly when he was at her back, he tried not to startle her - although he still felt her jump slightly.

“Are you okay?” He asked, tipping his mouth to talk in her ear, eyes still scanning where hers were aimed. She didn’t turn to look at him, still squinting at something. “Jo—“

“I saw..”, She started, shaking her head.

Dean tried to swing around in front of her, get her eyes to him, “what did you see?”

“I don’t— umm..” She grabbed his arm to stop his progression into her line of vision, sucking in a gasp.  Her eyes slammed shut, brow furrowing in concentration.. or pain.

“Jo?!” Dean said, alarm creeping into his voice.

—

 

> _Flashes of lightning.. or fire.. she can’t tell.  
>  __The crack and sizzle of it makes skin feel like parchment.  
>  __Charred and smoldering and crumbling to ashes at the slightest touch.  
>  __She can only just make out his screams above the roar of it.  
>  __Tasting his terror, something like adrenaline at the back of her throat as_ _Sam’s name comes barely audible, over and over again.  
>  __He’s strung up, monstrous hooks gleaming with his blood._  
> 
> _Then he’s walking towards a man, chained to a wooden Star of David,_ _circled in a devils trap. Industrial fan fwop, fwop, fwoping in the backgroud.  
>  __Not a man. A demon.The name comes to her.  
>  __Alastair.  
>  __His voice is nasally, slow and grating, drawn out and laced with disgust.  
>  __Smug and condescending, he thinks he’s funny.  
>  __“Now answer the question.” Dean’s voice is a rumble through her chest.  
>  __“Or what? You’ll work me over? But then.. maybe you don’t want to, maybe_ _your ahh.. scared to.” He finishes, turning the words into a song.  
>  __“I’m here aren’t I?”  
>  __“Not entirely, you left part of yourself back in the pit. Let’s see if we can get the_ _two if you back together again shall we?”  
>  __“You’re gunna be disappointed”_  
> 
> _She witnesses the whole exchange, so fast yet so achingly slow.  
>  _ _Like some sort of macabre stage show where the actors don’t quite walk_ _right, marionettes with someone else pulling the strings.  
>  _ _But his movements devour her as muscles tense and flex under his skin.  
>  _ _And when the beast in him comes out to play, he hates himself because because the demon is right, he’s_ _good at this.  
>    
>  _ _That should scare the shit out of him.  
>  _ _But it doesn’t._
> 
> _Which should fucking terrify her._    
>  _But it doesn’t._
> 
> _“Oh, the first time you picked up my razor, the first time you sliced into that_ _weeping bitch.. That was the first seal.” Alastair gloats.  
>  _ _“You’re lying”, Dean grinds out, she can feel his hackles rise._

—

“As he breaks, so shall it break”, Jo chokes out, tears streaming down her face.

Dean is holding her up by her elbows, each arm braced in one of his hands as her forehead rests against his chest, panting. She’s barely standing, entire body trembling and she’s burning up. Acutely aware of the startled sounds around her as Sam pushes his way through people to get to them.

“What th— What did you just say”, She’s sure Dean’s eyes are wide, she can’t see them but she can hear the alarm. The panic in his voice. “JO, what did you say?!” He growls at her. Both his hands jumping to her face, forcing her to look at him. She can feel him shaking now but she can’t tell if it’s from fear or anger.

Jo finally brought her eyes to meet his, desperately trying to blink through the haze of fever, her small hands wrapping around his wrists. “And it is written that the first seal shall be broken.. when a righteous man sheds blood in hell.” She whispers, and he wishes he didn’t hear her. “As he breaks, so shall it”.

 

 

__


	9. 09

Chapter 09;

 

“DRIVE SAM!”, Dean bellowed from the backseat. He had Jo cradled in his arms, mumbling quiet words to her, trying to keep her conscious. The fever had come on quick, after she’d whispered words he thought he’d never hear again, she’d dropped. Sam caught her before her knees hit the floor and Dean had scooped her up quickly, all but running out of the bar - barking at Sam to fish the Impala keys from his coat pocket and get them back to the bunker. Fast.

Sam floored the gas, it wasn’t a far drive but he could see the sweat rolling off Jo’s furrowed brow in the rear view mirror. She was ghostly pale except for the aggressive spots of red on her cheeks; like the painted makeup of a porcelain doll.

They made it back to the bunker in half the usual time, coming to a screeching halt outside. Dean snapped orders at him as he kicked the car door open, arms hooked under Jo’s knees and shoulders.

“Go grab a bag of ice from the kitchen— no 2 bags!” He continued over his shoulder as he carefully picked his way down the metal stairs. “Meet me in the bathroom!” shouted as they went their separate ways.

Dean placed Jo down on the bathroom floor, carefully leaning her against the wall before plugging the deep claw-foot tub and cranking the cold water faucet - one hand never leaving her knee. Turning back to her, he made short work of her boots and socks, pulling off her t-shirt and carefully shimmying her out of her jeans with no protest or modesty from Jo, just the fluttering of her eyelids trying to stay awake. He left her with just her underwear, tank top and bra; he picked her up again as Sam came running in with the ice.

“Dump it in the tub”, He nodded at Sam, who stepped around him to do so, brows knitted together in worry. Dean carefully lowered Jo into the tub, cradling her head as not to knock it against the edge.

Her eyes popped open in shock with an almost angry gasp, suddenly very alert, trying her damndest to scramble away from the freezing water.

“No no no, Jo you gotta stay in there.” Dean soothed, with all the kindness and understanding the world rarely saw from the surly hunter.

“We gotta get your temperature down.” Sam added, both men perched on their knees on the bathroom floor, Dean fighting to keep her limbs in the tub.

“ff-FUCKit..it’sCOLD.” She stammered loudly, body immediately breaking out into aggressive shivers. She stopped trying to escape and drew her legs to her chest, pulling her arms around them and resting her cheek on her knees. Dean had one hand on her back; relief etching his features as she blinked at them, her teeth chattering and cheeks still blazing but with much more lucidity behind her eyes now.

“Are you okay Jo?” Sam asked quietly. “What happened?”

She just closed her eyes and just shook her head at him, still too out of it to explain anything.

They stayed like that for awhile, well Dean stayed - Sam when to go find her dry clothes and something to keep her fever down. Once her shivering had calmed, Dean only removed his hand from her back to reach up and pull a towel off the hook for her.

“Think you can stand?” He asked softly. She nodded silently at him, eyes closed, slowly pushing herself up out of the water, using her hands to pull herself up the tiled wall to lean her shoulder against it. Reaching out one hand for the towel, she blinked as Dean - one corner of the giant towel in each of his hands - took her hand in his to help her out of the tub, wrapping it around her as she stepped over the edge and into him. Curling into his shoulder while he tucked the material around her. They stood like that for a moment, Dean with his cheek against the top of her head, breathing in her scent. Jo exhausted, burrowing herself under his arm into warmth.

They walked to her room like that, his arms secured around her just in case. Sam had laid dry clothes out for her on the bed, a glass of water on the side table beside a bottle of pills. Once he had her seated on the edge of the bed, he forced the water and a couple pills into her hands which she tossed back easily, gulping a quarter of the glass and eyed him sleepily when he turned around to let her change.

It was slow going, and he itched to turn around and check on her more than once but he held his ground until she quietly called his name. He pulled the sheet over her shoulder as she lay down, curling into a ball on her side, looking smaller than he ever thought she could. Ducking down, he grabbed her wet undergarments from the foot of the bed, tossing them in the hamper as he walked across the room to kill the light.

Sam found him still there sometime before dawn, sitting in the little leather and teak chair in the corner of her room, nothing but the bedside lamp casting shadows across his face. He’d kicked off his boots, elbow leaning against the arm of the chair, asleep against his fist. Sam padded over to check on Jo, noting the blaze in her cheeks had dimmed while he held back of his fingers against her forehead, cooler but still pretty warm. He walked over to his brother, nudging his knee and tipping his head towards the door when Dean looked up at him in sleepy surprise.

“Cas.” Was all Sam had to say.

 

—

 

Jo stirred to the sound of voices floating down the hall. Easily recognizing the Dean’s deep cadence, punctuated with an even deeper more stoic rebuttal. _Castiel_.

She eased back the covers, rolling to sit up, muscles protesting with the sharpe ache of fever as the cool air hit her still flushed skin. She was starting to think she’d never wake up feeling normal again, feeling rested and refreshed. She stood slowly, bracing herself against the mattress as her knees trembled slightly. Her door had been left open about halfway, reminding her of when she was sick as a kid and her mom would do the same thing, leaving the hall light on for her. Something so silly that had always made her feel just a little better. Less alone.

She inched her way down the hall towards the voices, one hand against the wall for stability.

“Cas, what the hell is going on with her?”, Dean ground out. She could hear the frustrated exhaustion in his voice. It made her feel guilty, she was becoming a burden to them and that was the last thing she wanted.

“She is still accl—“, The angel started.

“I swear to god if you say acclimating, I’m gunna start swinging.”

She stopped outside the door, leaning heavily on the wall just out of his eyesight although she could just see him, leaning against the kitchen island. He was tired. One arm crossed over his chest, other hand pulled up over his eyes. Muscles working under the shadow of stubble across his jaw. Sam walked around the island to hand him a mug, she could smell the coffee from where she stood.

“Her memories will sort themselves out in time, it’s to be expected that this should be a.. rough transition.” Castiel had his back to her, standing perfectly still and straight in the middle of the kitchen in front of Dean, even the set of his shoulders seemed aloof.

“I don’t think it’s just her memories”, Dean finally looked up at Cas. “I think.. “ He shook his head, running the hand not occupied with a mug, through his hair.

“What do you mean”, Sam this time, now seated on the table, feet up on a chair and arms resting on his knees with his own coffee.

“I think.. I dunno.” A frustrated sigh from Dean. “Something happened, she had a vision? Or something. I don’t think it was HER memory.”

“It wasn’t.” Jo said quietly.

 

—


	10. 10

**_Chapter 10;_ **

 

Three sets of eyes shot up at the sound of her quiet voice as she stepped into the kitchen. Sam pivoting on the table to face her, concern and confusion sitting in the knit of his brows. Castiel stepping to the side, vacating the spot directly in front of Dean whose head snapped up to her as she leaned against the door frame, arms crossed.

“It was yours.” She said when their eyes met. She could see the sheer panic in them, not sure if it was panic for what she’d seen, or the fact that she saw it.

“How?” He choked out, tearing his eyes from her to look over at Cas. It wasn’t until she flicked her eyes to him as well that something in her mind clicked.

“You’re different”, She said squinting at him. The look of guilt that crossed his features was so subtle she almost missed it, however she didn’t miss the change in his stature. She knew Dean saw it too because he was instantly standing up, able to read such a minuscule shift of the angel's muscles.

“Cas?” Sam tilted his head, trying to read the Angels Face.

“You’re.. shiny.” She said simply. “I saw the same thing in the bar last night.”

“What did you see?” Sam questioned.

“Someone was watching me, but I couldn’t see him.. no, I _could_ see him but I couldn’t look at him.” She explained to Sam. “He was too bright.” Turning back to Cas “Brighter than you though.”

“Bright? What do you mean bright?” Dean asked. “Cas? What does she mean bright?”

Castiel sighed. “It appears she can see angels.” He said flatly.

“And I couldn’t see him before.” Jo added. “Not like this.”

“So wait— you can— Jo can see angels now?” Sam questioned, placing his mug down behind him - as if the conversation needed his complete focus.

“Well technically.. it seems she can see their grace.” Castiel corrected.

“But— you were human, you fell. You lost your grace.” Sam said.

“Yes.”

Dean, who’d been watching the interaction with his arms crossed, absorbing the information, his eyes ping ponging between speakers, had started to frown. Jo could see him processing something, chewing on it. Waiting for the Cas to come right out and say it, put them out of their misery.

“I didn’t even think about it when you flapped away in the Impala after we found you.” Sam shaking his head at his own miss. “We were so distracted with Jo, you had your grace back then?”

“I had.. a very small amount. It needed to replenish after the escape.”

A thick silence filled the room, Jo watched the boys stew over the information.

“How’d you get your grace back?” Dean said quietly through clenched teeth, eyes flicking to Jo and back. Castiel just looked at him pensively without a word, guilt and shame marring his features - or as close to guilt and shame as you’d likely see on his mostly expressionless face.

“Cas?” Sam chimed in now.

Cas let out a small defeated breath. “It was my reward.” Shifting his eyes from Dean down to the floor.

Another beat of silence, she could almost hear the wheels turning in their brains.

“For pulling me out of Heaven.” She finished matter-of-factly, no inflections or emotions in her words. She just half closed her eyes, teeth working the corner of her lip, a sad derisive smile floating across her face.

Sam’s jaw went slack and Dean well.. that was that was the moment that you could physically feel Dean’s resolve snap. The fury practically vibrating out of the hunter, bouncing off every surface in the room, making the space feel loud - even before he started to yell.

“You—pul—YOU”, He couldn’t even string the words together, starting an aggressive pace towards then away from the angel. Hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, Jo thought he might actually hit him.

Dean stopped his pacing, with his back to them and braced his hands on the kitchen island. She could see him struggling to keep a rein on his emotions. “You, yanked her out to get your grace back?”

“Yes.”

“But.. why Cas?” Sam asked, hands up in emphasis, forever the Winchester seeking to understand.

Another achingly silent beat.

“She was the price.”

_Uh oh._

Dean punched the counter top so suddenly she hadn’t even seen him move, causing both her and Sam to visibly jump.

“What the fuck were you THINKING?” Dean rounded on the angel, actually causing him to take a tentative step back. “HUH CAS?!”

“I am no use to you and Sam as a human.”

“WE WOULD HAVE FOUND ANOTHER FUCKING WAY!” Dean bellowed in his face now, standing toe to toe, shaking with anger.

“I—“, Cas tried to start

“No.” Dean stepped back, turning to pace while he cracked his neck, flexing his hands, arms and shoulders; trying to shake out the rage - or trying not to hit something else. “No, you know what - there is nothing you can say that justifies this.” He turned around to face him again, jamming a finger in Jo’s direction. “There is nothing you can say to me that justifies yanking her down here.”

“Dean.” Sam tried to protest, tried to calm him down.

“NO Sam,” Dean spun on him, shaking his head. “There is _nothing_ worth this price.”

Jo was tired now, or again - she didn’t know. Her body hadn’t quite recovered from whatever reaction it had to Dean’s memory from last night and she wasn’t quite sure how to process this.. betrayal? No that wasn’t quite the right word. She turned to leave.

“Jo..?” Castiel spoke her name. He was trying for concern but the tone fell flat with the attempt.

She turned around to look at him “I’m going back to bed.” She said passively. The three of them watched her go; one with guilt, one with empathy, one seething with anger.

“Cas, can you at least tell us.. why her?” She heard Sam ask as she made her way back to her room.

“You know what, I can’t listen to this.” Dean snapped. “You deal with this because I can’t even look at him right now.”

Clicking her door closed quietly and curling up in bed, she listened to Dean moving down the hall, heard him stop outside her door for a moment before he continued on.

She was asleep within minutes.

 

 

—


	11. 11

_Knock Knock_

Jo blinked awake at the gentle sound against her door. “Come in,” she mumbled as she pulled herself to sit up against the headboard. 

Sam opened the door slowly, “Hey, thought you might want some coffee?” He padded into the room, handing the steaming mug to her. 

She brought the mug to her nose and sat there just absorbing the smell of it as Sam took a seat in the chair Dean - unbeknownst to her - had occupied last night.

“Mmmm thanks.”

“Welcome.” He sat there awkwardly, obviously trying to think of how to start the conversation. 

“You’re starting to make a habit of this Sam Winchester.” She smirked over at him. 

“Hmm?” 

“Comin’ in here with the best of intentions and defaulting into this weird silence, like you don’t know how to talk to me.”

“Sorry, I—“

“It’s fine.” She cut him off, “but if somethin’s on your mind, spit it out.” 

He stared mutely at her, blown away for a moment at how much she sounded like Ellen. Shaking his head, he tried to focus on which topic to tackle first and considering the short amount of time she’d been back, there was a surprising number of places he could start.

Jo shifted impatiently. “Okay well; I’m back from the dead, I can see angels, and I can apparently see other peoples memories.. well at least one other so far.” She counted the list off on her fingers. 

“Yea”, Sam nodded. “Cas unfortunately didn’t have much more information on most of that.” He chewed his lip, “the only thing I really got out of him was something about a prophecy.”

“About me?” Jo quirked an eyebrow in his direction. “Did he say what it was?”

“No. He’s been trying to find out but none of the angels will talk to him after jailbreaking you out of heaven.”

“Jailbreaking huh? So that kinda sounds like my theory might be right. It wasn’t my heaven?”

“Seems that way.” He nodded. “I’m gunna hit the books and see what I can dig up.” Sam said getting to his feet. 

“Kay.” She said, watching him move towards the door before dropping her eyes to the mug she held in her lap.

“You okay?”

She sighed, “Yea.. I think I gotta talk to Dean.” Forehead creasing as she frowned, “Work out what I saw last night.”

“Good idea.” He said with a chuckle, “and good luck.”

“Yea, he’s pissed.” She said with a laugh of her own. 

“Yes.. he is, not at you though.”

“Yea, I get that and I’m pissed too you know. I definitely trust Castiel a whole lot less but.. I think there’s more to it.”

“He’s not a bad guy but I think he can be almost too trusting..” Sam crossed his arms, leaning against the door frame. “He gets duped sometimes. And well.. God gave him an order - that’s his father; he’s not unlike Dean in that way. The way he was with our dad - they’re both trying to be good little soldiers.”

“Dean won’t see it like that.”

“No, you’re probably right.” And with an apprehensive little smile, Sam left the room. 

—

Jo found Dean at the gun range later that evening, after a hot shower and something to eat - she followed the sounds echoing down through the twists and turns of the bunker. 

She ducked into the room, gunshots ringing through her ears as she leaned against the wall watching him. He hadn’t heard her sneak in, unloading clip after clip with impressive speed, and even more impressive accuracy. 

It wasn’t hard to tell by the set of his jaw, that his anger hadn’t dissipated much since early this morning, though she was glad he hadn’t resorted to day drinking - this was at least a little bit healthier. 

He spent the last of his current clip, popping the magazine out and snapping the safety on before placing both items down on the bench in front of him. “Feeling better?” He asked, noting her presence before turning slowly to face her. Falling into his signature stance; leaning against the bench with his arms crossed. 

“Yea actually, a bit.” She nodded, mirroring his stance from her spot on the wall. “Fever seems to have stayed down.”

“Good.” He reached behind him to grab his gun, starting to disassemble it for cleaning, “that’s good.”

“Are you gunna ask what I saw?” She questioned, noting him stiffen for half a beat, choosing to discard his gun pieces back behind him. 

“Well.. I’m sure I can make a wager based on what you were mumbling when you came out of it.” He crossed his arms again. “My little torture session with Alastair?”

She nodded to him. “After I saw you strung up in hell screaming for your brother.”

He scrubbed a hand up the back of his neck and down the front of his face. “Fuck.”

“I didn’t mean to see it.” She jerked her shoulders up in a shrug, looking down at her feet.

“No, I know… just.. there’s a lot of shit up in here.” He tapped his temple. “Most of it shouldn’t be re-lived.”

“I can imagine.. you’ve been to hell Dean.”

“Among other places - by the way, you need to work on your stealth.” He quirked his lips into a small smile. 

She went with his quick change of subject, knowing him well enough that he wouldn’t talk about his experiences until he wanted to. “Well you have the hearing of a fucking wildcat.”

“That and you’re not as quiet as you think you are, we’ll work on that.”

“ _We_ will?” She looked at him in surprise. 

“Yea, well we should get you back into hunting shape, we have the space to train here till you’re ready to get out there again.” 

“So you want me to stay?”

“Well yea.” He looked genuinely surprised that she would think otherwise, “why wouldn’t you?”

“Well the last few days haven’t exactly been a walk in the park.” She said, pushing herself off the wall and stuffing her hands into her back pockets. “Figured I’d eventually get outta your hair, find an apartment or sumthin.”

He frowned at her, looking particularly perturbed at her assumption, “look Jo, as far as I’m concerned - you’re home.” He said it with such conviction, such finality that her eyes started to well up and she had to look back down at her feet. It was one thing for Sam to tell her it was okay for her to be here, but for Dean to say it - it felt surreal, holding a little more weight and merit than she thought it would.  

“You gunna cry on me Harvelle?” He quirked his lips into a soft smile, no condescension in his voice whatsoever. 

“Shut up Winchester.” She sniffed with a smile. “Dick.”

He barked out a laugh and stepped towards her, snagging her elbow to tug her into a hug. She fought to keep the tears back but one streaked its way down her cheek as she tucked herself against him. 

“Look, I know this has all been a lot and you ‘n I - we haven’t really talked about much about any of it. We will. But you need to understand that you’ll always have a place here.” He pulled back, holding her at arms length by her shoulders, tipping his head to look her in the eye. “You’re not a damn burden and you sure as hell ain’t no damsel. With everything that we’re going to try to figure out - you need to know you belong somewhere.”

She nodded a soggy smile at him, wiping her face aggressively as he hugged her again, resting his chin on the top of her head.

“Welcome to team free will.”

 

__

 

_End of Part I._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longer than normal wait; life has been happening and I have to go on a teeny tiny hiatus while hubs and I move into our first home! BUT I thought I would leave you with the promise of more - as this completed work is one of (at least) 3 parts! Rest assured, not only am I already a few chapters into part II, I also have the very final chapter written (dun dun dunnnnnn).
> 
> I also thought I’d leave the little tidbit that I actually got the idea for this work from the song America Money by Børns; feel free to give it a listen and I’m sure you’ll be able to pinpoint the prompt I found. There may be a few upcoming tidbits from the lyrics as well. 
> 
> I’m excited to add to this so stay tuned!


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